


Dappled Sunlight

by OpalEyes2112



Series: Prince of the Borderlands [1]
Category: Mirrormask (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pre-Canon, Shady minor character, Sherlock Being a Good Brother, Worldbuilding, Young Mycroft, Young Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24702058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalEyes2112/pseuds/OpalEyes2112
Summary: Sherlock is created amidst the Chiaroscuro Palace where he finds out he is the newly made Prince of Forgotten Hopes and Dreams. He is also the younger brother of Mycroft, the Grand Duke of the Borderlands who seeks to protect and educate the new royal as they navigate their world. As Sherlock grows he develops into a friend, a budding scientist, and the Borderland's first detective.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Holmes & Victor Trevor
Series: Prince of the Borderlands [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785835
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. First Day

**Author's Note:**

> In this story Sherlock looks like he is 5 years old and Mycroft looks like he's 12.
> 
> Also this is un-beta'd so any mistakes are mine and if you find any please let me know. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Sherlock had no idea how he came to be, only that he simply was. At first he’d been an outline of himself. Just a skeleton of black lines at first, but within a single day he was filled in and given colour. The first thing he saw was Mycroft who he instantly knew was his elder brother and Grand Duke of the Borderlands. He was Sherlock and Prince of the Forgotten Hopes and Dreams.

He frowned. It was a rather long title for someone who had come into being. The newborn prince was going to ask what Forgotten Hopes and Dreams even where, but then he realized he didn’t need to. He simply knew it now.

“I’m Sherlock and you’re Mycroft?”

The elder smiled as he nodded.

“I am Mycroft and this-“He waved a hand at their surroundings. “-is our home. Our own palace. How about we get you dressed, and then I will give you a tour brother mine?”

“Wonderful…” Mycroft smiled before striding towards a stormy grey archway with copper accents. _Like much of this palace it seems._

He followed his brother through a series of rooms. They passed a dining room with a vast grey table, then a sitting room, a study, then took a staircase that twisted so they had to walk upside down for a short while. Finally, they came upon a short hallway at the end of which lay a bronze door decorated with glitter, splashes of paint, and balloons with Happy Birthday written on them. Sherlock smiled at his big brother and received one in return before Mycroft opened the door and gestured for him to go in.

“Your royal apartment little brother! What do you think?” The Grand Duke asked as he bounced into the room after him while Sherlock looked around the room.

“I-I don’t know.” He told the truth plainly and noted his brother’s sagely nod. “I _think_ it’s beautiful. I like how the gold and orange lights are seeped into the grey. Like this chandelier…deep orange candles, but the metal is grey. A heavy grey. Like a thunderstorm cloud.”

He turned to see his brother watching him with an amused smile that lit up his blue-grey eyes. Nothing he said seemed to shock so Sherlock took that to mean that this kind of instantaneous knowledge was not unknown. Mycroft might have it too.

“Bed is nice…a very light grey. Silver…” the young prince walked towards the door beyond which lay a full bathroom also displaying the colours that seemed to dominate everything here. He turned back to his brother and gestured wildly about the room. “Why are these colours so prominent brother mine?”

Mycroft looked taken aback but only for a moment. “They are the colours representing the Borderlands. The Dark Palace is almost entirely black, red, burgundy…then there’s the Palace of Light all bright colours. We are the barrier, the in-between.”

Sherlock took in the information with flawless grace.

“I am to get dressed and then you’ll show me around?”

“Yes, you’re dressing room is beyond the door to your right.”

Sherlock looked to his right and saw the full length mirror. Hmm interesting… Without thinking about whether or not it should be possible he simply walked through it and found himself in another large room. In this one however the floor was polished wood and walls constructed almost entirely of brass clockwork gears. It was a surprisingly light room for the Palace of the Borderlands and yet, that confused him less than the boxes.

Arranged so that they lay 2 meters apart where a dozen boxes with eleven forming a circle and the twelfth the center. Sherlock wondered what or who they were, but he only had to wait five seconds before they rose from their containers the soft mechanical sounds of their limbs unfolding rung pleasantly in his ears.

_Ah ha! I have clockwork servants!_ The boy grinned as the brass and steel servants leaned towards him to get him ready whilst singing _Happy Birthday_ with mellifluous voices. Their gentle hands brushed his hair back then applied copious amounts of copper glitter to his body. As the others massaged the glitter into his hair one of them magicked garments of shimmering silver and a colour that he could only describe as the sunset reflecting off a lake.

Sherlock reveled in the cool sensation of the clothes settling on his skin. He took it between his fingers and was surprised at how soft it was despite its appearance. The young prince itched to run to a mirror to see how he looked, but there were still some finishing touches to be made; bright copper ornaments for each of his fingers followed by silver bangles on each wrist. Finally, they produced a mirror which they held before him patiently waiting on their newborn royal.

He didn’t know what he expected, truth be told Sherlock had realized he’d no suspicions on his appearance. He stood before the mirror for a long time and barely registered the sound of someone coming through the mirror-door.

“What are your thoughts, brother mine?”

“We both have red hair!”

Mycroft smiled at the response and moved so they stood side by side looking at themselves in the mirror. It was a strange experience. The younger lad in the mirror had the same fiery red hair as his elder and their bodies radiated a faint glow, but there the physical resemblance stopped.

“Why do my eyes keep changing colour?” The Grand Duke’s frown was caught in the mirror.

“Good question, brother mine. Perhaps we will find out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? What’s happening tomorrow?”

The sudden spark of bronze light evinced Mycroft’s appreciation for his brother’s curiosity.

“Tomorrow brother mine we’ll go to the City of Light.” A grin lit up the royal’s face as he told his increasingly ecstatic younger brother the plan. Mycroft waved an arm and the servants retreated back into their boxes leaving the mirror behind. His brother moved towards the door to leave and Sherlock followed. “First we shall go to Mr. Bagwell’s to get you some masks then we’ll go to the Library.”

The young royal’s interests piqued at the mention of masks. On some level he knew masks were important, but the reason eluded him.

“Mycroft?” He asked as they passed through the mirror stepping into his bedroom once again. “Why are masks the first thing we’re going to buy?”

The Grand Duke’s smile grew larger and Sherlock deduced it was due to him asking a smart question. Warmth infused him when he realized that Mycroft was _proud_ of him.

_I asked a clever question causing my brother to feel joy, ergo being clever is good._

The elder royal waited until they back in the hallway before allaying Sherlock’s curiosity coppery light intrinsic to the palace slightly dimming.

_The palace is decreasing its output of light because it’s early afternoon thus meaning the sun is high in the sky._

He felt Mycroft move closer to his side his stare following his brother’s.

“Yes it does that,” He murmured as he closed his eyes for a brief moment seeming to soak in the strange beauty of the place. “It’ll get brighter once its night and the stars are out. As to your question dear brother masks are necessary for us to wear sometimes as to not frighten the populace-too much.”

Sherlock tilted his head to regard Mycroft in confusion and his brother explained.

“The people of this world generally cannot tell what the emotions are of others’ unless they are wearing a mask. Us royals do not have this hindrance and those that are in our presence for a sustained time eventually adapt to learn to recognize our emotions sans mask.”

Mycroft winced and looked to the other royal almost bashfully.

“Am I making sense?”

Sherlock frowned and mulled it over. So the citizens had to wear masks so that the people around them could discern what they were feeling? _And since neither brother nor I are wearing masks right now, but we are royals our servants and friends can still determine what we are feeling? So…what is it? By what mechanism do the masks show our emotions in such a way that everyone can understand?_

“I…I think so?” The budding scientist mumbled. “It all seems rather odd though. Brother!”

Mycroft had started walking down the hall apparently eager to get the tour started and Sherlock raced after him then tugged on his brother’s embroidered sleeve.

Mycroft smiled at his sibling and led him into the room with the gargantuan table.

“This is the dining room,” he announced as he gestured to encompass the space. “Here is where we will take our meals. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and sometimes afternoon ice cream.”

Sherlock barely had time to take in the contemplate the intricate candlestick holders and woodwork of the chairs before the Grand Duke stalked off to the room across the hall.

“The Council room.” It looked like a larger version of the dining room, but with more decorations and colours. Next was the kitchen where he met Luck and Tuni, the palace chefs.

The two had been exceptionally happy to meet him and insisted on shaking his hand. He couldn’t help but to giggle at their enthusiasm, but just under the surface he was curious about their masks. They proved more insightful than he would’ve thought since he wasn’t wearing one however and prodded him on it.

“It’s…” Sherlock rolled his question over in his mind and worked on the phrasing to be clear. “…just where you born with them on or how….? How would you describe your masks?”

Luck smiled through his orange moth-wing mask.

“Tuni and I got our masks at Mr. Bagwell’s Your Highness!” The chef turned to his associate and Tuni reflected his smile. “We’re twins! Anyhow masks make the world run more smoothly we always say. It’d turn into a right ruckus if we didn’t have a bona fide face…oh! Begging your pardon young Prince you’re royalty, don’t need a mask like we do. We’ll always love you. Any woo…”

Tuni brought out a massive blow and bottles of what appeared to be essences of a sort.

“…we got get started on dinner! Plenty of ice cream for EVERYONE!”

The royals continued onward leaving Tuni and Luck to their joyous singing as they cooked. Sherlock glanced back and felt that warmth flood him again. These people truly did love him and their exuberance was downright contagious. He lifted his head to see Mycroft seemed to be the most cheerful, his expression saturated with fondness.

“Ready to see the rest? You’ll meet some people today and the rest when you’re ready for your debut.”

The prince nodded vigorously. “How many people live here?”

“Here in the Chiaroscuro Palace, Precipice City, or the Borderlands in general?”

Sherlock was taken aback at that knowledge; there being more to the Borderlands that just this place. He had to think about his original question, but it was difficult when now there was an entire legion of things he wanted to ask his brother. He was silent for a while; Mycroft showed him the palace sitting rooms, the vast game room, and even a library where they decided to take a break from their wondering.

It was also a good place as any to gather more information on the realm Sherlock was heir to. Though it was smaller than some of the other rooms it had a map of the Borderlands that took up an entire wall and a whole row of books dedicated to the geography of the world.

_So we the Chiaroscuro Palace is in Precipice City which sits between the Realm of Light and the Dark Lands. Based on this…we’re the barrier between the two and though narrow we remain critical. Let’s see…to the north? North? North is a direction? Yes….to the north is the Mountain of Expectations, the Valley of Disillusionment, and…ah ha! The Land of Forgotten Hopes and Dreams-my land. More towards the Realm of Light is Changeville and Insight Lake._

“There are other settlements?” Sherlock pointed at the map half turning to address his brother who lounged on the settee before a purple flame fireplace.

Mycroft rose from his spot and stalked over to see what he was addressing.

“Ah yes Changeville. Precipice City is the capital of the Borderlands and the most populous of the settlements. Logictown is the second largest and I daresay an amazing place to holiday. Earl Welbert is a most gracious host. Cope Mechanism is the smallest though…it’ll grow in time.”

“And Strained Bridges?”

Mycroft’s face contorted; the mention of the bridges that provided main access to the realms on either side made him anxious.

“Ah yes…Strained Bridges. Maintained by the Countess Ekaitz.” His elder turned to him with worry still painted on his face. “Wicked witch to be honest. Sometimes kind, sometimes exceptionally cruel. She’s been looking for an heir for quite some time now though she won’t get her paws on one in my realm!”

Sherlock didn’t know what to say to that so his mind meandered back onto the question he’d been mulling over before.

“How many people live here? As in the Borderlands?”

Mycroft adopted a pensive expression, his eyes narrowing as he crossed his arms in thought. He was quiet and, in the silence, only the flutter of the violet flames could be heard.

“Hard to say actually. It always changes. We may have started out as a pinpoint constructed by the Creator, but since then we’ve _somewhat_ of taken a life of our own.”

_Wait! What?_

“I would say as of now….” Mycroft’s eyes flared with silver and gold light. “….a million? It always changes. What the Creator experiences affects us and vice versa. Millions of people and variables in their world are reflected into this one.”

Sherlock’s mouth practically touched the floor in astonishment. Now he definitely had a ton of questions for the elder royal and he’d been ready to launch an interrogation when the Grand Duke held up his hands to fend it off.

“I know brother mine, it’s a lot, but it’s going to take a long time to answer even some of your questions and even then, the answers might still change.”

His hands clenched in frustration giving way to determination only when Mycroft laid a hand on his shoulder to soothe him.

“Are you alright brother?” The elder’s voice was quiet and carried a coolness that snatched the unpleasant emotions Sherlock had laid bare.

The boy made to nod his head, but then decided that wouldn’t be honest.

“I have so many questions! I feel my curiosity is a vast beast that wants to devour all the information this world can give me and then some.”

Mycroft frowned turning his eyes to the ceiling searching for something that wasn’t tangible.

“I am the same dear brother.” His jaw made a clicking sound as he came to a decision. “We’ll explore the realms until you’re old enough to go alone. And even then, you’ll always have my assistance on hand if you want it.”

A wave of joy went through young prince and before he knew it he was hugging his elder by the waist squeezing him as hard as he could.

“Thank you thank you thank you!”

“Sherlock! I’m glad you’re happy, but truly…that’s enough pressure on my lower ribs!”

“Sorry!”

“Nothing to apologize for just remember not to hug me so hard especially after our meals.”

Sherlock’s shoulders shook with his giggling. “You got it!”

“Whew…alright. Ready to resume the tour?”

“There’s more?” Sherlock yelped. _How many blessed rooms can this place possibly hold?_

“Yes, and you have yet to meet the rest of the staff.”

The young prince groaned and stomped his feet before giving Mycroft his okay.

Sherlock flopped into his bed as exhaustion kept nipping at his mind telling him he needed his beauty sleep. It’d been a very long day. Turned out that the palace could contract or expand to hold as many people as it needed or, as the case seemed to be recently, as it’s monarch dictated. As of now it had 310 rooms which seemed nothing short of being preposterously extravagant and he hadn’t even been allowed inside those rooms which were the servants’ quarters.

Then there had been the people! Mrs. Huepel, the Borderland’s Prime Minister and their de facto castellan, had been a welcome surprise. She turned out to be as clever as she was kind hearted. Then in the Throne Room where there were now two opulent chairs wrought in silver and bronze each bearing cushions of burnt orange and a horde of multi-coloured gems entwined in the metalwork. It was also where he met Orbert and two others whose names he kept forgetting. Mycroft had introduced him to Orbert who it turned out was the head of the palace guards and would travel with them to the City of Light tomorrow.

_Busy, busy, busy and now I wonder why we’re going to a different library when we have one here at home!_ Sherlock snarled in frustration when it seemed sleep would allude him forever since his mind didn’t want to shut up. The young prince was about to get up and dash out of his room when suddenly a small deep purple box he hadn’t noticed previously sprung to life. _Another clockwork servant-this one’s diminutive and has wings._

Apparently sensing their royal’s roiling emotions the doll-like servant started singing. Their voice was mechanical, but eerily beautiful in a way that would cling to his mind for all eternity. It was gentle too and it put him to sleep in minute despite his best attempts to hold on to consciousness and absorb the notes.


	2. Mask Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Mycroft visit the City of Light. Their first stop is to Mr. Bagwell's where Sherlock is to choose some masks to wear.

“Mycroft!” The young prince dashed into the breakfast nook, the flapping of his silver cloak making him look like a frantic baby falcon. “How long are we going to be staying in the City of Light?”

“Just for the day I think,” Mycroft replied with a smile that seemed to make the room brighter. He gestured at the table laden with intricate foodstuffs and beverages galore. Sherlock also noticed then that seated on either side of Mycroft was Orbert and the lady from yesterday Mrs. Huepel. The Grand Duke saw his assessing gaze and patted on his seat which turned out to be a cloud coloured wood bench with copper leaves.

Sherlock flopped onto his spot then took one of the silver platters while he all but sang his hellos to Orbert and their Prime Minister. The head guardsman nodded politely to him while Mrs. Huepel smiled graciously before passing a labyrinthian food platter and a decanter of juice. It was a gorgeous morning and in between bites Mycroft regaled him with riddles and logic puzzles. Time sped by and soon they were departing for the City of Light with Orbert in tow in a strange wagon.

“What is this? This mode of transportation?” Sherlock asked as he leaned against his elder. Mycroft’s eyes lit up and the young royal squirmed with anticipation at a new flow of information.

“Tell me what you observe. Not just see mind you but observe.”

The prince craned his neck to get a better view of the overall contraption. He took in it’s contours and lines that subjectively were elegant, but objectively were practical and even formed a sturdy whole.

“It has four wheels but doesn’t require a creature to push or pull it along. There are four cylinders on the left and right sides that generate that do it instead by…” Sherlock checked the devices again to make sure he was getting this right. “The cylinders generate some kind of energy propels the wagon forward.”

Mycroft’s face developed a proud grin. “Those cylinders are called Inspira-wheels. They take in the inspiration that flows through this world and generate it into power via the torque of those small interior wheels and the angular velocity. Such is the design that we could even fly to any settlement in this contraption. And this isn’t called a wagon dear Sherlock, this mode of transportation is classified as a carriage.”

The younger royal felt smugness pile up in his chest at the fact that he was learning and his observational skills were quite good. Not perfect by any means-not yet at least, but he suspected his skill was already more advanced than the others’. He smiled all the way to the entrance to the City of Light.

“Mycroft! Mycroft! These buildings are tall!” Sherlock scrambled across the carriage craning his neck to get a better view of their surroundings. The Grand Duke smiled indulgently though sparks of concern showed up in his blue eyes while Orbert now watched his every move like a hawk. “What plant is growing on the side of that building over there?”

“The plant is called ivy brother mine,” Mycroft answered, and Sherlock could see that his elder was happily waiting for the next barrage of questions which he readied with enthusiasm. By the time they reached Mr. and Mrs. Bagwell’s Mask Shop the prince now knew all about the phoenixes who hovered on in the dimmer alleys, the giants that floated overhead, and the entertainment troupes that livened up the city’s atmosphere. He found the city to be fascinating and though he hadn’t a chance to observe Precipice City more closely this one seemed larger and more vibrant.

“Here we are Your Majesty!” Orbert opened the door for the two joyous royals-the Grand Duke gracefully stepping onto the cobblestones and the Prince flinging himself out with the energy characteristic of the overly excited. “Watch your step young Prince.”

“I will Orbert!” Sherlock spun himself in a circle coming to attention at the three-story building painted bright yellow and adorned with a sign yelling out to the world what wares they specialized in. “This Mr. Bagwell is the best mask-maker?”

Mycroft strode up to the door then paused to turn to Sherlock to grace him with a resplendent smile. “Indeed! My brother deserves only the best!”

He whirled back to the door to knock, but someone had already opened the door. His big brother gestured for him to precede him while Orbert followed closely behind them.

Sherlock’s eyes widened into plates as he took in the shop’s interior. He could hear music of a sort drifting in from the room next door. It was of a different sort than what his clockwork servants produced, and he appreciated it, the diversity. That was one aspect that captured him, the other being the perfect rows of masks.

“What do you think Sherlock?” Mycroft inquired with a grin, the young prince could see his brother was enjoying his amazement. It also occurred to him that the Grand Duke had somehow adorned a mask without him noticing the motion, and next to him was a man he’d never seen before. “This is Mr. Bagwell. Mr. Bagwell this is Sherlock, the Prince of Forgotten Hopes and Dreams.”

“Well hello!” The wizened man beamed radiantly at the boy and lunged forward to shake the royal’s hand with boundless enthusiasm. “What a great pleasure to meet you! Your brother the Grand Duke is a marvelous friend to us, and the Queen is appreciative of his work. We look forward to seeing how you grow and getting more involved!”

_Queen? What Queen?_ He glanced over to Mycroft who picked up on his bewilderment and explained.

“There are two queens in this world: the Queen of Light and the Queen of Darkness. I’m a friend to the Queen of Light and try to keep cordial relations with the other one.”

Sherlock took in the information with a slight nod of acknowledgement then turned his attention back to the masks and Mr. Bagwell.

“Hello!” He tried to think of a better response and came up wanting. “I’m…glad to meet you too.”

_That didn’t sound awkward or anything._ “May I ask you some questions?”

The smile grew behind the masked face of the shopkeeper. “Of course, Your Highness!”

“How does a person know which mask is best for them? Or does the mask choose the person?” He’d been trying to figure out the science-or whatever it was-behind the mask for…a day. Still! It’d been nagging at his mind constantly. Sherlock now studied the mask maker’s thoughtful expression with rapt attention.

The silence stretched on for a while with Orbert and Mycroft watching the exchange like referees at a sporting match, but with higher patience levels.

“I would say,” the creator said after what seemed like a century to Sherlock. “That it depends on the mask. Most masks are simply creations of my hands and imagination. Some though are far more and are almost sentient in their own right. Take the Mirrormask for example; a work of the Creator Herself. It knows your deepest secrets and wants even the ones you yourself aren’t aware of on a conscious level. For those special ones it seems to be a mutual choosing.”

Sherlock rocked back on his heels at that. “You’re not the only mask maker?”

“No!” Mr. Bagwell’s smile came back like the sun after a storm. “But I’m the best in the City of Light!”

The prince found himself grinning at the man’s gleaming pride until several masks caught his attention and he peppered Mr. Bagwell with enquiries about them. After a while the shop keeper begged leave to get them cake and tea dashing towards the stairs leading to the flat above.

“Mycroft!” Sherlock strolled over to the Grand Duke, his ever-changing eyes shimmering with curiosity and a dash of worry. “How did you decide which one to get?”

Orbert looked to the elder royal whose face was partially obscured by a hurricane coloured mask composed of twisting symbols of a mathematical nature and horns with veins of burning amber. The Grand Duke took his time coming up with a response and Sherlock realized that he wanted to deliver only the best possible reply.

After several moments, the sunlight and storm cloud clad entity answered. “Some masks were picked because I enjoyed their aesthetic, but others, like this one, called to me in ways that you will understand very soon. Some will become a part of you as much as your dreams.”

Now _that_ was the kind of response that got the prince’s attention and led him into the act of trying to make a connection with the masks on the wall.

There were so many and yet, so far, none of them seemed to call out to him. Sure he liked some of them; he couldn’t help but revel in a pirate mask with a blond beard, but so far nothing… _hmm._

He walked further along while Orbert and his brother hung back with what he supposed was anticipation and Sherlock was beginning to feel something too. It’d begun as faint musical notes that he’d originally supposed was coming from the musical device in the other room, but it grew louder when the boy moved away. All of the sudden the Prince of Forgotten Hopes and Dreams twirled around in confusion; it’d felt like someone plucked at the strings of his mind all the way down to his subconscious.

_Up here you clever boy!_ Sherlock’s head swung back to the wall of masks his eyes scaling it until they came upon a mask the sight of which sent a bolt through him.

It was a beautiful mask. What captured his attention was not only it colours, but design as well. Unlike his brother’s this one wasn’t grey and sunset. Rather, it was a haunting shade of red with intricate midnight blue metalwork that streamed down from the eyeholes. The top section of the mask was no less beautiful; the entire portion above the eyes was taken up a Mobius strip rendered in small square cut onyx gems interrupted in the middle by a depiction of a sunrise (or sunset Sherlock wasn’t entirely certain which was correct) in purple crystals that were both dark and burning.

_Dark and burning…just like you will be Prince._ The mask whispered in his mind.

The prince propelled himself in the direction of his brother proudly displaying the mask.

“This! This is the one!” Mycroft took the mask from his trembling hands to hold the mask to Sherlock’s beaming face. He wondered briefly if the mask would speak to the Grand Duke like it had for him, but then decided that it was highly unlikely. Sometime during the burst of rapturous motion Mr. Bagwell came down with cakes and tear. Once he saw which mask the prince had chosen Sherlock could’ve sworn he smiled with a knowing spark in his eyes.

The next moments were a blur; Mr. Bagwell gave them each a plate with a diminutive cake on it with a cup of aromatic tea _after_ he pressed each of them to wash their hands because _hygiene!_ Then after Sherlock inhaled his food he went back to the array of masks to see if he’d like anymore while Mycroft exchanged polite conversation with Orbert and the mask maker. The young royal realized distantly that the mask maker’s wife, Mrs. Bagwell, joined the trio with a platter of sandwiches just as he picked the pirate mask with a blond beard. As he snagged his third mask, a beauty of bright turquoise that intensified his eyes, the four of them were entertaining each other with jokes and exquisite tidbits of information on upcoming events. By the time Sherlock flung himself into the chair next to his brother they were discussing how Sherlock would meet the Queen of Light and her Prime Minister.

The younger royal nudged the Grand Duke gently to let him know he was finished and ready to leave then was rewarded with a firm, but fond nod. Mycroft bid him to stay and eat something after which he went over to the counter where he fished out a small bag of jewels while Mr. Bagwell wrapped each mask lovingly then sealed them in more sturdy boxes except for the special one. That he left out for the Prince and which, after payment was fulfilled, the shop keeper helped him put on. As soon as the ornate mask settled onto his face he could feel another mind pulsing against his and a sense of security overwhelmed all of his lingering disquiet, even at the subconscious level.

As they were about to be swept off into the city again Sherlock makes sure to wave to the joyous mask maker and his wife who was flitting around the place. It would’ve been awkward with the boxes, but Orbert offered to take them to the carriage for him.

“The Library is next?” He asked Mycroft as they waited just outside the mask shop for Orbert to return. He’d already deduced that the library wasn’t far since they weren’t taking the carriage to get there.

The Grand Duke smiled with amusement. “Yes! I can’t wait to show you! It’s one of the most glorious places in the City of Light and I’ve been planning to construct a library for the Borderlands. Though I have yet to find a suitable Librarian who isn’t already taken.”

Sherlock half turned at the sound of pounding footsteps which ceased once they made it back to their place, beside the Grand Duke and his heir. Their head guardsman was looking a little disheveled from running all the way, but no one minded. Heck, it looked like it’s been fun from if his mischievous grin was anything to go by and the Prince made a mental note to run more often. After they exchanged glances the triumvirate made their way through the opulent City of Light toward the Library.


	3. Yellow & Red Beard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft, Orbert, and Sherlock visit the Library where the young prince meets two new people and gains a friend.

Sherlock couldn’t help but gawk at their new environs. They’d stopped en route to the Library to procure a heartier lunch at one of the outdoor cafes and the young prince adored it. In every corner there was an entertainment troupe practicing their arts while schools of goldfish flew around. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of people milled about ranging from peddlers and acrobats to aristocrats. It brought a warm glow of joy to his chest realizing how they all treated each other with respect and even fond admiration in some cases.

With a blissful smile Sherlock turned his attention to the architecture which his brother had a better eye for.

“Mycroft!”

The Grand Duke looked up from their lunch arrangement. “Yes Sherlock?”

“Why are the buildings here pale-no, not paler-brighter than the ones in the Borderlands?” The young royal thought he had his observations correct, or was he being fooled by the brighter light?

“They only look brighter,” the elder answered his lips curling in amusement when he discovered that both of them were paying attention. “All the realms have days and nights, but ours is dimmer since we don’t have an additional light source like the City of Light does.”

Sherlock felt his neck snap at how quickly he’d turned his head to look for this other source. At first he couldn’t detect anything that screamed incandescent until he craned his nape to get a better view of the high rises.

He almost shrugged and went back to eating until he spotted a beam of white light coming from somewhere on the opposite side of the metropolis.

_Almost perfectly straight beam of light being projected skywards,_ Sherlock deduced while Orbert munched on an egg sandwich and Mycroft had set his aside anticipating another series of questions. His brother knew him well.

“Where is that light coming from?”

The Grand Duke fidgeted in his seat then leaned forwards straightening his silver cloak as he shifted.

“The Queen of Light, brother mine. She is it’s Bearer just as the Queen of Shadows is the Bearer of Darkness.”

Sherlock could almost touch Mycroft’s seemingly endless river of patience as he arrived at the inevitable follow-up.

“What are we Bearers of?” The prince figured he could deduce what his brother carried easily, but what he himself conveyed…that was another matter entirely.

As the Grand Duke tilted his head his mask caught the light turning it into the silver and amber into a phantasmagorical masterpiece of moonlight and embers.

“I am the Bearer of Balance. I sit between the Light and the Dark. Though…” His brother’s blue grey eyes glazed over and for a moment Sherlock felt that his kin was far away, beyond the reaches of the sky. Suddenly Mycroft snapped out of it and he reached across the table to clasp the prince’s hands. “You my brother, are a mystery even to me. But, I promise, we’ll discover what you Bear.”

Sherlock raced around the table to give Mycroft a crushing hug.

“Thank you, brother!”

Soon after they finished their meal and resumed their journey to the soaring building which was the Library.

It was one of the most beautiful places Sherlock had ever seen. He was jittery as they strode into the three-story lobby and he as astonished to see a flock of books fly in behind them.

The young prince vigorously shook one his brother’s sleeves while Orbert stood off to the side, probably observing the other patrons.

“What? What is it Lock?”

“The books! How can they fly?!”

“Same way as the fish do, brother mine,” Mycroft responded softly. “They were created to do so just as you and I were created to walk and talk. Imagination, my dear Sherlock, powers everything in this world.”

The boy nodded, though he was a bi frustrated until he remembered that they were in the Library and surely there would be a book, or books, that could answer his enquiries. However, before he could race off leaving his brother and a bewildered Orbert in the imaginary dust a tall man descended upon them.

“Ah! Welcome...uhumm to the Library.” Sherlock gawked at him; the Librarian wore billowing green robes and towered over everyone! His smiles were genuinely friendly and his voice wondrously genial to listen to. But still! He was taller than Orbert!

“I’m the Librarian and who might you be?” The towering figure positively beamed at them and the prince couldn’t help feeling like he was somehow becoming lighter from the highly apparent benevolence.

“I’m Mycroft, Grand Duke of the Borderlands, and this young boy here-“ His brother pulled Sherlock into a fond side hug before gesturing to Orbert. “-is my brother Sherlock; the Prince of the Forgotten Hopes and Dreams, and this gent is our guardsman, Orbert.”

Orbert bowed towards the Librarian whose grin widened. “My word! What a pleasant surprise! Welcome, welcome! It’s your first time here, correct?”

Once Mycroft nodded a trio of crow-people approached them bearing nets. As they each took a net the Librarian spoke to them.

“Allow me to give you the tour!” He chattered away quietly, but excitedly nonetheless. “It’s a vast place I insist! Is there any kind of information you’re looking for in particular?”

Sherlock lunged forward with a crazy, electric smile on his face. “YES! Sorry!”

He lowered his voice at the Librarian’s scowl then tried again. “Yes, I would like to know everything!”

“Ahh, information? Paperbacks are on the top floor! Hardcovers are on the third and fourth floors. We’ll work our way up.”

The sun was a little lower on the horizon by the time they got to the top floor. The tour had been _long!_ The first floor had been absolutely stunning with metal- and woodwork all radiant with the sunlight reflecting off the white marble. After that the other floors, excepting the highest floor, were less descript.

While they’d been on the fourth floor he’d caught a quartet of books with the net. Sherlock had been afraid that they would be an absolute pain to carry, however he was pleased to discover that the books’ chose to still flap around instead of settling in the net. An excellent thing considering according to the Librarian they had six more floors.

Once they were on the top floor Sherlock scampered over to the vast, circular window where he gasped at the view. It was incredible! From here he could see out for quite some ways, the young prince could even make out the building from which the beam of light originated from. It was a tall, twisting structure made of some material that was an iridescent bluish white. Even from here he could make out the rainbows that the building was casting and a glowing being stepping out of the main entrance when he felt a presence over his shoulder.

He turned thinking it was Mycroft or Orbert, instead he was confronted by a young boy wearing a pirate mask with a red wisp of a beard.

“Oh! Hello?”

The boy smiled shyly as he extended his hand. Sherlock, confused, merely grabbed his hand then searched it wondering if he had something in it. Why else would someone hold their hand out?

He was pondering that when his mask whispered into his mind. _[Young Prince he means for you to shake it, as courtesy demands]._

Still, he looked over to Mycroft for clues, but found that his brother and Orbert were being detained by a thin, bronze-masked man a full head taller than the Grand Duke with sunset-coloured hair. He wondered who these people, belatedly noticed the Librarian was gone, then switched his focus back to the boy.

“I’m Sherlock. Who are you?” The prince shook the stranger’s hand. It was for the briefest of moments, but apparently it was a good decision as the pirate-boy seemed to glow with exuberance.

“My name’s Victor. Him there is my Da,” he added after pointing at the man conversing with his brother. “We come from the Borderlands too!”

“Really?” Sherlock didn’t know why he was surprised. Victor’s Da had some genial relationship with Mycroft and his clothes were higher end than most. Something about the older stranger invoked a heavy wistfulness, nostalgia, beautiful scenes of life that whipped by into the past.

_Borderland aristocracy. High ranking even amongst the courtiers and possibly even Mycroft’s mentor. He has a lot of determination, focus, and an extensive ability to influence others around even without actively trying. Then there’s Victor, a year longer than me. Likes pirates, games, and meeting new people. He doesn’t have his father’s gravity; in fact he has a lightness to him._

“You like games, Victor?” He asked at some prompting from his mask.

“Oh yes!” the pirate masked boy’s smile was like the sun; full of innocence and life. “Except…I think we should go outside to play. It would be impolite to make a ruckus-or so Da says.”

“Ready to go?” Both boys leaped at the sound of Orbert’s voice. Simultaneously they turned around to see all three elders looking at them expectantly.

“Yes!” Sherlock walked towards his brother his gait was slow to allow the slightly younger boy to keep up. It was exciting; the idea of playing with someone closer to his age! He’d never played before, but he was sure he would understand it soon.

Once he reached Mycroft, he suddenly felt arms encircle his shoulders and the young prince realized he was going to be introduced to the older aristocrat.

“Sherlock, this is Modus, the Duke of Memory Lake and a friend of mine.”

Modus’ responding smile was partly obscured by his glimmering bronze mask. Sherlock waited for him to hold out his hand to be shook, but the duke never did. It would occur to him later that he’d forwent the courtesy because he’d sensed the new prince’s unease.

“Modus, this Sherlock. He was created just yesterday and he’s the Prince of Forgotten Hopes and Dreams.”

The Duke of Memory Lake offered the younger royal a bow, yet the smile seemed to be…different from before. Though in what way Sherlock couldn’t say.

“Come on.” Sherlock twirled to face a waiting Victor after inclining his head at Modus. Then together they descended the stairs; Orbert already half a flight in front while Mycroft and Modus followed them conversing in quiet tones.

\---------------------------------

Mycroft watched as his brother and Modus’ son ran after each other in the park, Sherlock since having donned with his mask with the yellow beard. Three meters away Orbert watched everyone from his perch next to the carriage.

The Duke of Memory Lake watched Victor with grey eyes that seemed impossibly deep. Micro expressions had long been the mainstay of the noble’s face; a twitch of lips each time the boys ran across their “ship” and a flinch if Victor got close to hitting something. After an hour he swerved towards Mycroft with sparks in his eyes.

“I’m glad they’re getting along.”

“Yes,” the Grand Duke responded with a swirl of emotions. “How’s your wife?”

“We’re separating.” Modus’ voice dropped an octave at his displeasure at the idea. “She wants another child all to herself and I’m against the idea. For obvious reasons.”

The older aristocrat sighed with weariness that seemed vaster than the realm. “Countess of Strained Bridges- if only I knew how true to her title she would be.”

“You have custody of Victor?”

“Of course! I love my son and she’s…not a good parent.”

“I’m glad he’s with you.” Mycroft chuckled as Sherlock and Victor pretended that some clockwork dog was a traitor and there were making the pup “walk the plank”.

There was no small amount of joy at his brother having a friend to play pirates with, but eventually there was….ehhh… _diplomacy._ Sherlock would be presented to the world with all three realms in attendance and while he was actually friends with the Queen of Light and her Prime Minister the other side was a different story. The Queen of Shadows and her council were a hard-to-deal-with and wicked band. They usually wanted nothing to do with the Borderlands or the Light Lands, but they’d want to get the measure of the new royal.

_She has her shadows, her disturbed courtiers, and those clawed hands. The Borderlands has me, my Prime Minister, and now Sherlock. We’ll build the Borderlands up, protect the land, and love the people._

Sherlock turned to check where they were mid-spring and the Grand Duke’s chest bloom with a fierce protectiveness. He’d do anything to protect that sun-bright face with all of his youthful innocence and joy.


	4. Walk the Plank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Victor play pirates with Mycroft as their prisoner when the Grand Duke receives startling news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will be have an additional chapter since I decided to break up the fourth chapter. If all works out this fic should be completed by next Sunday. Thank you all for the kudos and the comments!

In one of the palace’s many courtyards Sherlock twisted a silvery green branch until it snapped off the immense specimen it’d sprouted from.

The young prince twirled the stick in his hands then thrusted the jagged end towards Mycroft while Victor cackled gleefully.

“Walk the plank, Prisoner!” He poked the “prisoner” in the back until his brother let himself topple into the pool somehow managing to splash both the boys.

Victor, or his chosen pirate name Redbeard, rushed to the edge of the fountain just in time to see the Grand Duke surface, his cloud and sun cloak surrounding him like an ethereal lily pad. As the boy drew closer Mycroft’s lips shaped a beatific smile before flailing his legs drenching the pirates even more.

Sherlock tried to maintain an air of seriousness, but the plan failed miserably as he slumped as a giggling fit took over his body.

_Mycroft the Grand Duke of the Borderlands and Bearer of Balance reduced to a mutinous, giant lily pad!_ He didn’t know exactly what about it he found funny he just did.

Finally, the prince got his bearings and told his big brother exactly what he thought.

“You look like a really, really big lily pad! Your hair even looks like a scarlet flower!”

Mycroft’s answering smile was bemused and he looked content to float in the fountain for a while until a clattering sound made it’s way to them.

“Mycroft!” Mrs. Huepel shouted her voice wild with concern. The Grand Duke scowled, but then wove his features to be imperturbable. Their Prime Minister froze upon seeing the tableau in the courtyard taking a moment to recover. Both the boys fell silent fazed at the woman’s uncharacteristically frazzled presence.

“Um…Your Highness! It’s about the party…”

“The party is tomorrow. We have everything arranged and perfected, I’m sure it’ll work out like a new clock!”

Mrs. Huepel’s shoulder heaved with a frustrated sigh.

“It’s not the arrangements, Sire! It’s the…guests.”

Mycroft’s eyes narrowed and for a fleeting moment Sherlock could’ve sworn they flickered a strange, smoky gold. The Grand Duke suddenly stood in one fluid motion then stalked to the edge of the fountain his clothes and hair drying unusually fast as he climbed out. The prince squirmed feeling anxious due to his brother’s obvious agitation.

“Who’s already here?”

“The Duke of Insanity and her Majesty, the Queen of Shadows. Orbert is attending to them. Then there are a few of our own here: Chiara; the Duchess of Chaos Forest and Gwell; Baron of the Valley of Illusions.” A wave of confusion hit Sherlock as she rattled off the names; his brother had demanded that people come the day of his debut.

_Why arrive early? Unless…they think it’ll help my brother?_ A shiver slithered down his spine at the thought of the Dark Land’s monarch and her right-hand man provoking a conflict.

It seemed unlikely, but still possible. Out of the Borderland’s nobility he only knew Modus and Victor, and whoever the Countess of Strained Bridges was. Sherlock knew enough about the Borderlands though to know that the aristocrats were loyal to his brother and not without considerable strength of their own. Enough perhaps to bolster their Grand Duke so the other monarch didn’t try anything.

He’d never met the Queen of the Dark Lands, but from what he’d heard she was a terrifying, demanding creature. Orbert had told him she’d even challenged Mycroft during _his_ debut party, and though the Grand Duke had managed to make her and her wacky henchman sod off she took to biting at the heels of the Borderland’s ruler whenever she could. The young prince grit his teeth. He wanted to spend it with Mycroft, Victor, and his friends in the palace while eating fantastic ice-cream concoctions!

Sherlock wanted to stomp on something, but his urge was swept away by the next stream of conversation.

“I’ll summon the others to the Palace-“ Mycroft caught Mrs. Huepel’s open mouthed expression and clarified. “Not _all_ of the others, rather just the rest of Borderland’s nobility. I’m sure Welbert will be able to tie the damnable Duke of Insanity in a knot, and if not, then have Mantel help him. And if her Majesty decided she was entitled to come early, why not ask the Queen of Light to come over early?”

Mrs. Huepel’s mouth was twisted in concern. “Her Radiance is very busy; do you think she’ll actually come early or send someone else? Remember, she’s not particularly fond of the other one.”

“She’ll come _precisely_ because she’s not fond of her.” Mycroft’s voice grew stronger with his confidence. He enjoyed thwarting their-well not _quite_ enemies, but definitely not friends-at every step. It was actually a good plan Sherlock realized as he mulled it over; his brother wouldn’t need to expend so much of his own energy keeping the worst of the Dark Land’s power structure on a leash.

“Besides, the Prime Minister of Light can be very capable.” The Grand Duke then turned to Sherlock and Victor. “Look after my brother and his friend while I take care of things. We’ll have a grand feast tonight to assuage everyone so please make sure they’re presentable.”

Their Prime Minister dipped into a slight bow in acknowledgement only straightening until Mycroft was hurrying up the stairs.

It was strange and Sherlock couldn’t help reeling by the suddenness of it all. He looked to Victor to see how the young noble was holding up and found the boy’s red bearded mask was expressing anxious features with the eyebrows scrunched.

“Victor?” His friend turned to look to him his expression unchanged. “Shall we go look for your father?”

The boy’s gaze fell upon the violet grass with an incredible intensity-as if he could burn it if he could focus hard enough.

He stood there for a while his eyes roaming over the ground while his shoulders twitched. Finally, he turned to Sherlock and nodded.

“I should find Father, and then get ready…” His voice trailed off into silence until his back suddenly snapped into a straighter posture. “Mum’ll come here too and I don’t think I’m ready to face her…yet.”

Sherlock glanced at him sharply. His brother had told him that the Countess of Strained Bridges was rather incompatible with decent parenting, however he struggled to understand what that _meant._ His best friend obviously had some reservations about her.

That realization led to a decision. _No matter what you’re my friend._

“I’ll come with you while you look for him,” Sherlock offered with a determined smile. “If we see your mother en route she can’t do anything…unless she does, but then I’ll have Orbert toss her out. Or someone else toss her out.”

Victor’s eyes grew wide in surprise. “Promise?”

“Promise!”

His friend flung his arms around his shoulders in a quick albeit tight hug.

“You’re the best!”

Sherlock shrugged as if to say it was no big deal, however it got even better.

“I’ll escort you two.” Mrs. Huepel’s smile was warm, genuine in its kindness and benevolence. The prince thought about ignoring her offer-or rather demand-however she would probably be better than him at steering them away from the Countess.

Besides, Victor seemed to be over the moon with her response and proceeded to also give her a quick hug.

“Ready?”

“Ready!” His friend smiled before racing out of the courtyard with the prince hot on his heels and Mrs. Huepel gracefully flitting across the stone walkways after them.


	5. The Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock meets the Queen of Light and the Queen of Shadows along with the more nobles of the Borderlands at the impromptu evening feast.

Dinner was an extravagant affair. It was held in a cavernous dining hall Sherlock didn’t remember seeing in his tour-or so he thought until his eyes caught the sight of a blue tapestry and realized that this was actually a ballroom converted to hold the dignitaries.

At the head of the table sat Mycroft resplendent in a deep grey robe wearing the same mask as he did at the City of Light. His arms were weighed down with bronze arm bands while his fingers were held captive by glimmering gold claws.

He made for a impressive sight and Sherlock wondered if the others saw him as equally impressive. The young prince was extremely young, barely a week old with the appearance of a young boy. However, the little royal hoped his regalia made up for it.

The clockwork servants had dressed him in a robe swirling with colours: misty blue, flashes of blazing orange, and slithers of a dreamy violet laid against a dark grey background. They’d also given Sherlock bronze arm bands, but his talons were a bright silver.

His mask was an additional comfort. The young royal had chosen his deep red mask with the Mobius strip and purple sunset. As he’d placed it over his pale skin it had whispered words of comfort to him as well as advice: _Don’t address the Dark Land denizens, make sure to acknowledge Victor,_ and _always pay attention to the people at the table._

Sherlock’d taken the last bit of advice to heart. Him and his brother had been the last ones to arrive and immediately upon their entrance he’d started making a mental list as to who’s who.

The lady, situated to Mycroft’s left, with bronze skin and incandescent white hair was the Queen of Light. Her warm eyes glowed with a serene warmth Sherlock couldn’t help, but envy.

Then the woman situated next to the Queen of Light was the Queen of Shadows. Her appearance nearly prompted Sherlock to bolt from the room. Her eyes were completely consumed with shadows, her hair somehow stood straight up, and like the other royals wore talons, but hers seemed to have dark flames in their gold.

Where the Queen of Light was benevolent the other queen was…deranged. In some way. She smiled and made polite noises, but there was something in the way that she watched Mycroft and the bright being beside her as if she would love nothing more than to declare herself their better. Or worse.

Then when a small man arrived, and Sherlock had to forcefully shove down all of his repulsion-or was it the desire to scream?

“Ah! Little prince may I introduce to one of my councilmembers the Duke of Insanity?” The Queen of Shadows turned her abyss dark eyes at him with a fierce smile. She gestured towards the small man with a flinty, dark gaze. “Malis this is Sherlock, the Prince of Forgotten Hopes and Dreams. Sherlock this Malis, the Duke of Insanity.”

“Um…hello.” Sherlock didn’t want to offer him his hand. He didn’t even bother; somehow, he knew that he’d risk losing his composure if he’d allow this noble to touch his skin. Mycroft, seeing his unease, quickly offered him an exit.

“Sherlock! I would like to meet the Queen of Light!” His brother tugged him away from Malis and towards the shining woman. The smile she gave them seemed to drag up Sherlock’s courage while blasting away the residual unease at the presence of the others’.

“Thank you, Mycroft!” The Queen of Light’s joy at seeing the new royal seemed to cause a flare in her radiance. “Wonderful! Nice to meet you Sherlock! How did you find my capital?”

Temporarily dazed by the light it took Sherlock a moment to gather his wits. “Your capital…ah! The City of Light? It’s spectacular Your Majesty! I love the parks, the Bagwells are friendly, the fish…and the Library!”

His deduction abilities hardly needed to be used to see that her responding chuckle was genuine. It was obvious she loved her realm and her people. The Queen of Light was truly proud of the city.

Borderland’s Prince wanted to speak to her some more, however he was suddenly swept up into introductions with strangers. His brother helped him remain calm as he greeted the newcomers. The new quartet were clearly nobility, excepting one, with their finely made robes and elaborate masks.

The first one he shook hands with had ink black hair kept in a strict bun and piercing, jade green eyes. He went by Welbert, the Earl of Logictown and after his introduction made a beeline to sit next to the Duke of Insanity.

Mycroft watched the earl walk with determination written into his stride then leaned down to whisper into Sherlock’s ear.

“He’s a nice man and an excellent teacher. He has a particular distaste for Malis and enjoys smashing any argument he comes up with to pieces. Don’t know why he goes by Welbert though.”

“His name isn’t actually Welbert?” Sherlock shifted his head to the side puzzled by the new information.

“No…it’s his real name. For now, but he’s bound to change it again. He’s changed it 22 times now.”

“What was his original name?”

“Don’t know, but it started with a C-ah! Welcome Chiara!” Sherlock grumbled before turning to face a new lady. “Sherlock this Chiara, the Duchess of Chaos Forest.”

Chiara grinned with thin lips revealing the tips of pointy teeth. Out of everyone here, her appearance seemed…disorganized.

Her hair looked like an art project where someone needed to do some weaving, but then realized that they didn’t have enough thread of one colour, so they had to use _all_ the colours at their disposal. Even her eyes looked like they couldn’t decide what colour they wanted to be.

“Remember this Prince: Chaos isn’t always a bad thing. After all, this world thrives on creativity and imagination.”

Chiara gently brushed a strand of his hair then departed after leaving that pearl of wisdom. Sherlock watched her take the seat next to the Queen of Light and soon the women were in animated conversation.

Next up was Mantel, the Count of Copetown, dressed in a tunic of bright red with bronze embroidery with maroon trousers. He pulled Mycroft into a hug before asking him something Sherlock couldn’t quite catch. The Grand Duke’s response was lost as the first of the servants arrived bearing a heavy looking platter. Mantel smiled and said his hello to the prince before sitting next to Welbert who visibly relaxed when he joined him. His departure revealed a slim man with a white and black cloak.

_Last-or even last? I thought there were more nobles in the Borderlands than this. Were they not all able to come?_ It seemed possible and Mrs. Huepel had mentioned earlier that a couple might not be able to make it to tonight’s feast.

“You’re Gwell? From the Valley of Illusions?” Sherlock remembered their Prime Minister rattling off that name when talking to his brother.

The lithe figure smile, nodded, then somehow reappeared next to Chiara.

Sherlock glanced around and caught the Queen of Shadows tracking his every move like a hawk. The Prince’s bones suddenly felt like jelly threatening him with crumbling to his knees in front of everyone.

“You’ll be okay. I promise.” Sherlock felt the weight of Mycroft’s hand on his shoulder and felt the fear be tugged away like pebbles by the tide. Another sensation: a blossoming of warmth in his chest followed and he looked up to catch the Queen of Light’s amber eyes dance with radiance.

He straightened his back and tilted his chin up as he stalked towards his chair. The Duke of Insanity flashed his pointed teeth, but it failed to perturb him. If anything, it made him feel mischievous.

The prince quickly deduced several things from the duke: he was utterly devoted to his queen, peeved by Welbert, and wary of the Borderland’s Grand Duke yet he hoped Sherlock would be an insipid brat.

_Sorry Malis, I’m a brat, but far more intelligent than you._ Sherlock smirked at the Duke of Insanity who growled before digging into the first course of poached sphinx eggs and violet rice.

Looking across the table he spotted Victor, his father, and Mrs. Huepel taking the last seats. He shouted out at them and they returned his greeting with hand waves. He caught Victor’s gaze and tilted his head pointedly towards the grumbling duke besides him with a wicked grin. His best friend’s eyebrows shot up as he guffawed told Sherlock he knew exactly how the prince intended to entertain himself.

Shifting towards the Duke of Insanity he caught Welbert and Mantel’s surprised expressions and increased his smirk by a hundredfold.

“So….Malis,” Sherlock asked with a bemused air. “Judging the wear on your shoes and the fibrous material underneath your fingernails…I’d say you were the man who gave Her Majesty the black lilies she has in her hair. Tell me: when do you plan on telling her of the crush you’ve harbored for her for…at least ten years. Or are you going to propose marriage?”

Malis’ reaction was worth it, but the Queen of Shadows gagging on a bit of poached egg made it even better.

Sherlock turned to catch his brother’s eyes to find that he wasn’t the only one whose shoulders shook as he tried to hold in his giggles.

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow. With the possibility of even more people in attendance he felt an eagerness to show himself off.

The prince sipped his giggleberry juice as his mind raced through all the things that could happen then. Sherlock was set down his goblet and rubbed his hands together in anticipation before looking for a new victim of his deductive abilities. 


	6. Evening Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock attends his own debut celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the world of Mirrormask reflects the "real world" I'll leave it you guys to figure who Rus is a counterpart of. Also for those of you who are fans of the Mirrormask movie this chapter sees Valentine's Mum (mentioned in the movie) in the flesh so to speak.
> 
> Also let me know if you would like to see a part 2.

Sherlock’s debut celebration was in full swing when he decided to make his entrance. He wore his blood red mask with lake-silver trousers and a tunic decorated with gold clockwork embroidery. The sleeves of the jacket Mycroft had insisted on curled past his fingertips which glittered as the light caught the tips of the gold claws.

 _Pomp and over-the-top clothing to make a statement, but it takes wits to make a declaration._ Sherlock kept recited that tidbit of wisdom as the he strode past the guards at the entry way to the Main Hall.

Almost instantly the musicians were silenced followed by the ramblings of the hundreds of guests. The prince glanced around feeling a surge of anxiety constrict his throat as a thousand eyes landed on him. The turns of his head became more frantic with each passing second until he caught sight of Victor wearing a mask of muted orange to match his hair. Right next to him was his father whose face was covered by a mask he found was near indescribable. For the _slightest_ moment Sherlock paused as the imagery seemed to sink reality around it, yet in the next the visual was back to being bland.

Shaking his head, the prince scuttled towards his best friend catching the gazes of his brother, Mrs. Huepel, and… _ehhhh creepy lady,_ the Queen of Shadows. Jittery with social anxiety it took all of his restraint to not launch himself into Victor’s waiting hug. Modus even stepped away to give them more space after one look at the prince’s pale features. Almost all of the guests were now back to their conversations, but Sherlock didn’t want to look like flailing puppy in case anyone _was_ looking.

“Thank the Giants!” The prince muttered as he pulled away from his friend. “I swear you’re one of the few people here that’ll make this bearable.”

The Duke’s son’s lips twisted in a sympathetic grimace as he turned to look out at the arena of the world’s rich and/or powerful.

“I can imagine.” The tightness in that usually vibrant voice was a painful reminder that forced Sherlock’s eyes to travel with his friend’s in search of a wayward aristocrat.

“She’s here, isn’t she?” Victor nodded then suddenly he took a deep breath while scrunching up his shoulders before forcing them back down.

“It’ll be okay. After all, this is your party not mine!” His gaze slid across the dance floor where half a hundred were waltzing until his grey-green eyes snapped up to stare at the prince. “What’s all going on tonight?”

Sherlock groaned. His brother and Borderland’s Prime Minister had organized all the details while he’d been out playing or studying. If it hadn’t been for his deductive capabilities he would be just as much in the dark as his friend was.

“Mostly dancing and music and ice cream,” the silver and gold prince informed as he counted the activities off with his fingers. “Then half an hour from now…ah! Actually twenty-five minutes from now the circus trope will arrive for a show. Yes! See? The musicians are already starting to move away from the dance floor!”

He was proven _almost_ correct; the performers arrived thirty-one minutes later as there had been some trouble with all the traffic in Precipice City. Sherlock wanted to snort at their explanation, but a look from his brother persuaded him to do a 180 and welcome them with all the grace he could manage.

It wasn’t hard to see how they would brighten the evening; they would distract the more easily entertained guests and perhaps (Sherlock hoped) their antics would distract his friend from his parents’ tumultuous separation. If they were _really_ good maybe they could keep even his attention. One could hope.

Within minutes of their arrival they had tied a series of ropes to the sturdy spires in the Main Hall’s ceiling while readying their own musicians. They were truly an intriguing bunch to say the least; their outfits were colourful and skin-tight while their mask designs were eclectic. He saw one that looked like a green bar across the eyes, one was a feathered monstrosity, and another was matte black with what looked like dried flower petals on one cheek.

A firebreather tried to hold everyone’s attention as the acrobats got into their positions and it seemed to work for the Day Lands’ aristocracy and some of the Borderlands. The Shadow Lands’ nobles were busier on taking bets as to if and when someone would get hurt. Sherlock chanced a glance at Victor and felt warm seeing those forest green eyes fixated on the performers as they tossed rings to each other at 10 meters.

He had to admit they performed with ceaseless grace and found himself annoyed at their part being so short (it was actually half an hour), until the front and center firebreather was joined by seven others.

Sherlock’s shoulders shook with delight as the pyromancers managed to form a fountain of flame with a brilliant blue heart. Next, they mixed powders into the fire so an array of colours burst like a garden in midsummer. Everyone cheered this time, even the Shadow Queen and her Duke who otherwise wore masks of indifference.

The young prince looked around and caught a nod from his brother and a boy his age he hadn’t met before. Feeling his gaze Mycroft almost gave him a questioning tilt of the head but was satisfied by what he saw. He turned to say something to the boy, however by the time his brother’s acquaintance glanced his way Sherlock’s attention was taken up by something Victor said about his father’s gardens.

\----------------

The performance went on for nigh on two hours and Mycroft had seen to it that the trope was paid in enough jewels to cover their costs into the following year. His brother had laughed more in those two hours that he had in the past two days. That alone had counted it as a major success and even more so when it actually delighted the simmering Queen of Shadows and her hench-people. He’d never been so glad for Rus’ solid presence.

Despite his age, Rus was a brilliant student at the capitol’s academy and with his talent for finding trouble it wouldn’t be long before he worked his way up to Inspector of Precipice City. He’d been his friend like Victor was Sherlock’s, but Mycroft’s duties had caused them to drift apart. It was another reason he was so glad his brother had found his friend in the young noble; their similar stations would mean that they would get to interact on a more consistent basis than Rus could with him.

He stalked towards the Earl of Logictown to convince him to tutor his brother when he was waylaid by the Countess of Strained Bridges.

“Ah!” Mycroft tried to slam a smile on his face in vain. Judging by the woman’s narrowed marron eyes it was the world’s most obvious grimace. “Lad-“

“Where’s my son?”

The Grand Duke didn’t even bother asking who she meant. It’d only earn him her contempt and he’d rather not start a feud during his brother’s party.

“He’s enjoying the festivities…” He turned around in a show of looking for the boy then turned back before dropping his voice into a low growl of warning. “He’s with my brother, if you must know, and _don’t you dare impede on their time!_ “

Sharpened teeth made their appearance in her brittle smile as she turned away, however as she stalked towards the banquet table, she shouted over her shoulder at him.

“I’ll have another heir soon! You think you’re omnipotent, but even you can’t prevent me from raising another!”

The goblet in Mycroft’s grip emanated a crack as his temper slipped. Frowning, the Grand Duke gave the glass to a passing servant then proceeded to make his way towards Welbert. Along the way he decided to ask Modus if he’d also like to tutor his brother. Perhaps Phyllis, the Marchioness of Change, or Eviette, the Duchess of Expectation Mountain, would also be effective tutors for Sherlock.

_Maybe all four would be best._ Mycroft’s mind swirled with concerns for Sherlock’s future and simmering cruelty of the Strained Bridges’ countess. _So many plans to make and so little time._

_\--------------------------_

As the party wore on into the night the young prince felt that he was increasingly swinging from energetic to downright tired.

After the circus performance the ball room was once again designed, but this time plumes of bioluminescent wine coloured flowers were hung from the ceiling while torches were planted on the edges that burned white, black, and silver. It was gorgeous and Sherlock was grateful for the new deductions he could make based on people responded to the change. He was doubly grateful that the lighting was ever-so-slightly dimmer when the guests called on him to dance.

He’d first waltzed with the Queen of Light, who patiently corrected his mistakes with a beatific smile, then was shuffled off to Gwell who was as bad a dancer as he was. After what felt like an eternity of mistakes and blushing uncontrollably Sherlock found himself dancing with Mrs. Huepel who straightened his jacket during a pause in the music.

“How _are_ you enjoying this?” The woman asked quietly after a quick glance around the room.

“Honestly? I can’t wait to go to bed.”

“Hold your patience, luv. After the fireworks you can scamper off with none the wiser.”

“Yes, but why do I have to say good-bye to _all of them?_ Some of them I hope to never again!” Sherlock pressed his lips together to suppress a frustrated a shout.

“You do it because it’s polite and…ah! Right on cue!” The chief pyromancer announced that the fireworks were ready and if everyone, please, join him in the backyard for the best viewing.

As Prince of the Land of Forgotten Hopes and Dreams he had a front row seat, and he made certain to find Victor in the crowd and drag him with. He looked around for his brother and saw him talking to Welbert and a tall woman he might’ve been introduced to. Sherlock was about to start the trip to the backyard when he caught sight of the older boy his brother had been talking to making his way towards them.

“Who are you?” The boy’s mask was a simple bronze mask that complimented his dark brown eyes and his clothes, though fancy, weren’t those of a noble. He was an acquittance of his brother’s that much was certain, but there were too many unknowns.

“Rus Luscure.” Sherlock was taken aback, but the lack of formality was refreshing. With a nod the prince led the group to where the fireworks were and continued his line of questioning along the way. The older boy, _Rus_ , was very familiar with the palace’s layout among other things. By the time they got to their seats Sherlock had elevated Rus from a mere acquaintance to a dear friend of Mycroft’s. By then Victor was also engrossed in their conversation.

“So what are you going to do when you grow up?”

“Pardon?”

“I said-“ Sherlock hated it when he had to repeat his questions. He supposedly knew that someday he’d have to learn to embrace patience, but that day wasn’t even remotely close.

“Ah yes!” Rus fidgeted in his seat and glanced at Victor then the prince before continuing. “I’m thinking I’ll become a police officer. Eventually become Chief Inspector of Precipice City.”

The smile he gave didn’t distract Sherlock from his words and he found that he was scowling.

“What’s a police officer?”

“ ‘What’s a-‘” Rus raised a brow and was about to say something when Mycroft sat next to him effectively silencing the group for the moment.

A moment later his brother gave the pyromancers the all-good sign and the first fireworks spiraled in the air before exploding into a dozen different colours. Despite the brilliance of the display or perhaps-because of it-he endeavored to find out what a police officer was and then from there an inspector, but _that_ was for later.

Right now he was surrounded by friends and family and he was going to make the most of this moment.


End file.
